


dark is right (do not go gentle into that good night)

by giggletaehyung



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Multi, Relationship Development, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3464723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giggletaehyung/pseuds/giggletaehyung
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t have to keep an eye on me, you know.” <br/>         It’s the first thing she’s willingly said the whole time they’ve been out of Beacon Hills.<br/>	“What do you mean?” Lydia shrugs, pretends to be nonchalant.<br/>	“You know what I mean, Lydia. You haven’t done anything on this trip except for hover over me an--”<br/>	“I ate, and I started a conversation.”<br/>	Allison sighs. “I know, Lyds. But you haven’t done much, and.. and I don’t think that’s okay. Look, you can go ahead and talk to them; go and have fun with your-- our friends. Please.”<br/>	“Are you sure?” Lydia huffs, laces her fingers with Allison’s.<br/>	“Yeah.”<br/>	“Well, too bad.”</p>
<p>also: there are a lot of pack feels</p>
            </blockquote>





	dark is right (do not go gentle into that good night)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dansunedisco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco/gifts).



> this was supposed to be an "everyone lives and nothing hurts" prompt paired with the road trip, but i couldn't help myself, and this turned into a whole pack thing. but allydia is /definitely/ a main focal point in this thing
> 
> betaed by: gangerbitch on tumblr
> 
> enjoy :~)

In all honesty, Allison had no interest in riding in Derek’s SUV, nor did she have any interest in being squished in a testosterone sandwich. But, as Lydia had been reminding her, _it would be the best way to relieve the tension between you and everyone else._ The said tension wasn’t something that could be calmed with a pill called road trip, but Lydia seemed to think so, so Allison will go with it for the sake of her best friend. After all, there wasn’t a reason she couldn’t at least try to make up for the time she’s been away (at a hospital with a stab wound from her ex-boyfriend’s best friend).

Her agreement led to her to Lydia’s room, sitting on the edge of her bed while the other rummages through the crowded closet of hangers and sundresses and god-knows-what. Apparently, Allison’s style wasn’t the “right” style for a road trip leading to nowhere. Her dad packed her bag with the necessities that weren’t clothing: toothbrush, snacks, water, and even a book to keep her busy while the others would ramble on about whatever happened while she was hooked up to tubes. Lydia huffed at the sight of a book, saying that she’ll _be too busy to read_ , but the ex-huntress doubts that.

“Here,” Lydia says, presenting a short, red sundress that seemed to sway heavily in the small movements her hand made.

Allison sees this as her cue to stand, smiles timidly at the other as she walks toward her.

She strips her current clothing, immediately being replaced by said sundress that seemed to compliment her hair better. Lydia smiles, knowing this, and claps her hands together as she searches for the right footwear to accompany the dress. Her fingers glide over the fabric of the dress on her, fitting around her upper body then flowing down to her knees.

“Lydia?”

The redhead turns, pauses from her search. “Yes, Allison?”

“Do you really think this’ll work?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Lydia.” Allison sounds firm, wanting an answer.

“I don’t know, Ally, but I’m hoping it does.”

That was good enough for Allison’s mind to rest; an honest answer from her best friend. At least, it would put her mind to rest for now-- there’s no telling what’ll happen overnight.

****  
  


By the time the morning of the road trip comes, Allison’s packed and ready to go, with the outfit chosen by her best friend already hugging her body and making her heels ache. Everyone else arrived early, Scott and Isaac already bickering with Scott and Derek beside them looking exasperated. They looked normal, acted like it. It seemed Allison’s time away just gave them more of a reason to stick together. Allison’s presence would be intrusive. They haven’t seen her yet, at least, a house or two away from Lydia’s house with her things in an athletic bag that was a bit bigger than normal ones (it secretly hid her bow and arrows, along with a few daggers. In case she was too bored when they settled down to camp somewhere).

There’s someone new in the group, she realizes, when a slender figure is immediately wrapped within Stiles’ arms. She can hear the name Malia from where she’s standing. Someone new. Probably better than her-- probably hasn’t tried to kill anyone in the pack. Good for Stiles. Good for Scott, having a new addition to the pack. Derek doesn’t seem too phased by her presence, either, shaking his head and walking around the front of the vehicle and into the driver’s seat as a sign of being _done_.

The thought struck her that everyone had someone, or were okay with being by themselves. Scott had Kira, which didn’t really bother Allison in the amount it should’ve, and Stiles had Malia, who wasn’t discreet in spotting Allison as she sniffs then turns her attention away from Stiles and towards the huntress waiting patiently for nothing.

Her father kisses her forehead and says good luck (for what, Allison knew). She smiles ruefully at him, turns to wave goodbye to her dad, and he drives away. Allison is alone, standing awkwardly on the sidewalk, looking at the pack. When she swivels her head back to focus on the latter, she realizes they’re all looking at her, even Derek in the car, with tense postures.

“Allison!” Lydia’s voice chimes in the silence, waves her over with a bright grin like everyone else wasn’t.

The huntress obeys, keeps silent as she walks over there with her head up. She has to act normal, smile at everyone sheepishly in response to their silence (only Scott and Kira respond, hands laced together. Allison notices them squeeze). Lydia greets her with a hug, and it takes Allison a beat to wrap her own arms around the other before the redhead pulls away. Allison can’t stand to look at Stiles at the moment.

Stiles wasn’t the one at fault, she definitely knew that, but he was the host. The Nogitsune was _him_ \-- looked like him. Used his face and his body and Allison gets chills everytime she accidentally remembers. Isaac on his knees, swords slicing at his chest over and over and over until Allison hits one of them with her silver arrow and there’s a feeling of relief before----

“ _Allison_?”

Lydia catches her before she falls, the huntress stumbling a bit while holding her head. Green eyes glare at the others and everyone scrambles hurriedly into the van. Isaac is in the front, Malia and Kira go in the front passenger seats, Stiles and Scott in the one behind it, and Lydia opts for the two of them to stay in the back. It was for the best, anyway, for them to be back there. Lydia was on the two-person list of people who could calm her down. The others didn’t seem to mind, either, the two males in the front passenger seats cheering obnoxiously when Derek began to move the vehicle out of the driveway.

****  
  


Her only willing companion on this trip falls asleep around twenty minutes of seeing the sign _You are now leaving Beacon Hills_ , leaving Allison to read the book her dad had packed for her while the others talked each other’s ears off: _To Kill A Mockingbird_. Derek turns up the morning radio.

The huntress wakes to gentle poking, the smell of gas, and the feeling of being watched. The sun was still up, yellow and glaring, white clouds rolling past as her eyes flutter open and reveal the view outside the window. It seemed too perfect a view, in her opinion, until she remembered the whole reason for being in a van---- why she wasn’t seeing his view in her room. _Roadtrip_.

She wasn’t bitter about it, not at all, it was just lonely. Despite Lydia’s presence and willingness to hang around, the rest had only shared polite moments with her. Nods. Small smiles. None were genuine enough to lift even a small weight off her shoulders, but Allison realized long ago that she’s the one who puts the weight on them in the first place. She must carry them because no one else will, because she has to find herself again before she seeks for anyone else.

“ _Allison!_  We’re stopping for some gas and the others went to get some food from the joint across the street.” Lydia says, stops her prodding and gives a smile. “I didn’t want you to leave you, so I waited. You wanna come? They’re buying food for Derek, since he can’t leave his car.”

Her eyes immediately move towards the front of the seat, the hope that they were alone simmering into nothing as she spots Derek staring at her intently. Green eyes meet hers. They don’t look away, yet. Allison can see the gears shifting in his head, like they always were, about her. About her survival.

Once he looks away, Allison does too, and, when she turns her head, she’s met by another pair of green-- but this time they’re calming. An almost-replica green of the trees she’d see while on her morning runs, staring at her cautiously. It was like they were connected, in a way. Mentally. Lydia always knew what to do around her, always knew what to say.

“C’mon,” she says. “We’re going, and you have no time to say no.”

Allison can’t beat her, so she joins her, stands crouched and follows Lydia outside of the van. Derek nods at Lydia, pauses and stares at Allison as she stares back, then nods at her too. Somehow, this makes her lighter, coaxes her lips to twitch upward and send a small smile as she nods back.

“We’re going with the rest, you wanna come?” Lydia asks, adjusts the skirt on Allison’s dress.

Derek just chuckles under his breath and shakes his head. He probably told one of them to buy him a burger, or something, and decided to be the one to guard the van. Lydia seemed to know this as well, and nods, grabs Allison’s wrist and tugs her gently along to the other side of the road.

_The other side of the road_ held a McDonalds, window walls showing some of the inside (which seemed empty, if Allison’s eyes were working). It was a simple McDonalds joint, tiled floors and wood tables paired with either booths or metal chairs with padding used as cushions. Workers seemed to think it was a lazy day, only moving from behind the wall to the counter a few times. The pack appears in her view when Lydia opens the door, the sound of laughing and talking invading her hearing. Stiles probably cracked a joke, Malia, from all the information Allison had gathered during the hour she wasn’t asleep, probably asked a question about something common. Maybe the chicken nuggets. Or maybe Kira had done something awkward, but insanely cute to the rest. They all had their _things_. The pack had secrets and inside jokes that Allison hadn’t been there for. To the pack, she was the omega-- the outlier. Someone who was part of a pack, but left. Not theirs, but not no one’s either. She used to have a role in the group, provided something that might have been vital (she doesn’t remember).

They fall silent, eyes trained on her and Lydia. Her stomach becomes a pit, burning as she feels the stares given. But she stands strong, the voice of her mother echoing through her head, and it almost drives her to madness to even see the back of Stiles’ head. It seems they both can’t handle looking at each other.

“Sleeping Beauty here woke up,” Lydia says, despite the silence and slight tension hanging in the air. “Hope you guys saved _some_ of the food.”

There are two empty seats, she realizes, saved for Lydia and Derek. Probably Derek. Maybe her. Derek probably told them that he wouldn’t be coming, so they’d save the seat for her. The mere thought of them remembering almost makes her smile, but that would probably be a bit vain. Thinking they’d save a seat for her, not Derek. If they could’ve just saved _three_ , Allison wouldn’t have an internal war on whether or not to sit beside Lydia. Turns out there’s no choice when it comes to Lydia Martin, the ex-huntress being tugged into the empty seat in between the redhead and Isaac.

She expects her downfall.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Isaac’s hands twitch from his lap. They slowly move down, cautiously move towards her own. The hand he was reaching for doesn’t know what to do, stays hanging loosely beside the chair seat. And, when his hands find hers, warmth spreads throughout her palm, moves from her fingertips to her arm. It’s comforting, to say the least, a soft squeeze given to the beta’s hand and he squeezes back.

_He doesn’t hate me_ , is the first thought in her head. _He feels awkward around me, but he isn’t ignoring me. This is okay. This is fine._

Isaac’s thumb circles the back of her hand, a soothing action. The discomfort she felt was probably obvious, if the pack still wasn’t talking. So, she musters a small smile, free fingers tapping on her lap out of habit. Her nervous habits list seems to have piled up ever since she got out of the hospital: licking and biting her lips, tapping on surfaces, squeezing things in her hands, the lot of it. Scott looks at her with a small smile, ever the true alpha he is, and nods at her. Malia scrunches her nose, probably smelling the awkwardness.

The supernatural lady smiles at her from across the table for a quick second, then narrows her eyes. Obviously, she wouldn’t know who Allison was, or why everyone always went silent when she was around-- though, that should have been something the coyote could deduce. Malia fiddles a bit with a piece of her food before stretching the hand containing a nugget out to the ex-huntress.

“Here,” she says, nods a little. Everyone keeps nodding at her. “You must be hungry.”

Allison looks at the piece of food, then to Malia. Stiles looks at her with a confused expression-- Malia probably never did this. _Feral instincts would tell her to keep her food_ , she reminds herself. _Survival_. This was a rarity for them, to see Malia give her food so willingly. The huntress can’t help but accept it, like it was a bridge somehow. An agreement to protect each other-- _We take care of each other_. She takes a bite of the meat, smiling at the werecoyote (Lydia had filled her in during their outfit planning) and squeezing Isaac’s hand. He squeezes back.

Stiles just huffs, clearly frustrated, and averts Allison’s intense gaze. He’s wearing one of his signature plaid shirts, paired with some jeans, the usual Stiles Stilinski outfit. Her hand grips Isaac’s tighter, trying to move the memory of that night into a box. With a blanket over it. If she ruined this little moment of knowing Malia and Isaac were on her side, she wouldn’t forgive herself. So Allison looks over at Lydia instead, gives her a look that said _talk_.

And the strawberry blonde nods, begins the topic of how these things they called _food_ were probably made with everything but, and Allison is thankful for Isaac’s warm hand and Malia’s offered food.

Though, Scott’s smile doesn’t go unnoticed.

****  
  


Allison needed to go outside to breathe, her own silence filling her mind with too many thoughts at once. When she releases Isaac’s hand, his head immediately whirls to look at her with a worried look in his eyes. Her response is just a shake of her head, standing from her chair (which was a bit too uncomfortable) and walking away---- until Lydia’s reflexes kick in and her hand finds Allison’s wrist. Pulling her back and down, Lydia gives her a stern, mother-like look.

“ _Where_ are you going?” Lydia asks quietly, raises a brow.

“To the van,” Allison whispers, inhales sharply because Stiles is the only one who notices her. Scott and Isaac are arguing about.. _something_. Kira and Malia look cozy together, with Malia playing with the kitsune’s dark hair. There was no reason for her to be here. At least Derek would understand, maybe, her reason for leaving ten minutes into conversation.

Lydia sighs, clearly unhappy that she was leaving without speaking at least once, but lights up as fast as she sighed. “Okay, everyone, time to go. I think Derek’s been waiting _too_ long for that burger of his.” Everyone follows, not wanting to cross the banshee. “Up, were-somethings!”

Stiles looks at her smugly.

“And humans.”

He frowns, realises his mistake, and stands with the rest. He’s the one who grabs the food intended for the one they left behind, catches up with the group that was already out the door. Lydia and Allison stay behind, which was more Allison wanting to walk in the back and Lydia just won’t _leave her alone_. It’s not that the whole companion thing wasn’t appreciated-- in fact, Allison _loved_ having Lydia by her side when she was alone-- but she was also dragging Lydia behind. During the whole trip, Lydia had mostly done nothing. Lydia had been following her around, keeping an eye on her like----

“You don’t have to keep an eye on me, you know.”

It’s the first thing she’s willingly said the whole time they’ve been out of Beacon Hills.

“What do you mean?” Lydia shrugs, pretends to be nonchalant.

“You know what I mean, Lydia. You haven’t done _anything_ on this trip except for hover over me an--”

“I ate, and I started a conversation.”

Allison sighs. “I _know_ , Lyds. But you haven’t done much, and.. and I don’t think that’s okay. Look, you can go ahead and talk to them; go and have fun with your-- **our** friends. Please.”

“Are you sure?” Lydia huffs, laces her fingers with Allison’s.

“Yeah.”

“Well, too bad.”

“ _Lydia_.”

The redhead rolls her eyes, huffs again as they reach the other end of the street.

“Look,” Allison says. “I can drive for a few hours or something. _And_ , no shotgun for you. Please. If you don’t talk to anyone else on this trip willingly, it’ll make it better for me.”

Resistance was futile, and Lydia knew that; the redhead nods, enters the backseat with everyone else. _Okay, guys, rotate!_ Stiles shouts, probably having thought this out before Allison came to Lydia’s driveway. Allison finds Derek already in the driver’s seat, piano-tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. It doesn’t take too long before he realizes her presence and unlocks his side of the door. Apparently, he already knew what she was going to ask before she even spoke, already stepping out of his van and allowing her inside. He doesn’t shut the door, though, after she settles herself in the comfort of the driver’s seat. The huntress waits, looking at him as he looks back at her.

Then, after a beat, “Be careful.”

She smiles, nods, “I will.”

****  
  


It’s not so long after her little moment with Derek does the passenger door open, Malia entering immediately before she closes the door. Allison breathes a sigh of relief; if it was Stiles next on shotgun duty, there would be nothing but silence in the front, unlike earlier. Derek and Isaac were on good terms, and everyone would talk  while Allison stayed quiet in the back.

Honestly, the whole trip felt like two things: a _really_ fun trip for everyone else, and a reason for Allison to throw herself a small pity party while driving.

Malia sits there, does the honors of asking if everyone’s sat down and nodding when the unanimous answer is _yes_. Then, Allison begins to drive, and everyone starts booming into conversation, Lydia and Kira’s voices blending with Scott and Isaac’s as they start to converse about something, and Stiles and Derek are arguing (which consisted of Stiles huffing out frustrated noises and nonsensical points while Derek stared at him with varying degrees of the _oh, really now?_ look) about something. She’s not sure about how Malia feels, so she risks their lives for a second to glance over at the werecoyote. Who was staring.

Everyone keeps _staring_ at her.

“So,” Malia starts, fiddles with the edges of her wavy hair. “Why does everyone reek of awkward when _you’re_ near?”

Dammit. Well, there goes Allison’s hopes of that topic being buried six feet under. There were too many answers for that question, the main one being too sensitive to mention around the people who were currently in the car. Except Derek, of course, but he was the only outlier. Malia would understand, maybe, the unspoken reason as to why Allison shrugs as a response. To this, the she-coyote shifts in her seat, seemingly frustrated that the seatbelt that restrained her, and looks at Allison with a cocked brow. The ex-huntress sighs, looking straight ahead.

“It’s.. It’s not something I can just say out loud, Malia.”

“Then,  _whisper._ ” Malia emphasizes the syllables of whisper.

Allison glances at her again. “We’re in a van filled with werewolves.”

“So? They’re not listening.”

“Oh, believe me.” Her eyes glance at the rearview mirror. “They always are.”

Allison ends up driving the rest of the seven hours, smiling to herself as the scenery and facades of forests roll past her. The signs that informed travelers like them about the rest stops and food places and events that were happening. No one complains, not even Allison, who was left with her thoughts (but her thoughts were okay; they were nice). Her energy didn’t tire out at all during her shift, lack of activity that included her made sure of that. Everything around her was beautiful, anyway, so she didn’t have a reason to complain about such. Though, a sunset isn’t quite as exhilarating to witness when everyone fell asleep half an hour before it.

Stopping the car as the bright star begins its descent, Allison turns her head to check if anyone’s awake at the moment-- _no one_. It fills her with relief, even though it _shouldn’t_ , and she slowly slips out of the van, even though she should be driving. The sky’s a brilliant symphony of pinks and oranges, separated by a royal purple; it reminds Allison of pictures with the cosmos in it. Hints of stars show in the sky, blinking hellos and goodbyes toward their little corner of the universe. It makes Allison think of herself as important, for the first time in months, despite her sitting cross-legged on the hood of a black van filled with people who haven’t talked to her in the duration they’ve been riding together. Taking in a whiff of the clean air, cicadas begin to buzz in the distance. Skittering of various small animals. City lights could be seen so far away, small flickering lights of buildings and cars and houses.

A shut of the vehicle’s doors makes Allison jump, look over her shoulder. Stiles, in his not-so-lanky anymore body, moves closer to her until he’s right in front of her. It takes the huntress a few seconds to realize that he’s silently requesting if he could sit with her, watch the stars in all their grandness. It takes him just as much time to climb onto the hood after Allison nods. At least not everything about him had changed-- except.

It could be the grogginess from waking up, or the fact it was getting darker, but Stiles’ eyes had a small glint in them. A glint of something. The glint sends a small shiver down Allison’s spine, but she suppresses her want to flinch-- not just for Stiles, but for herself. If she flinches, it’ll cause the whole train wreck of _remembering_ , which is something Allison is not looking forward to experiencing.

“Look,” Stiles suddenly says, voice piercing the darkness. “I know that I’m not the person you want to see right now, or-- or, talk to, but just _hear me out_ , okay?”

Allison nods.

“Okay. Okay, good.” A deep breath could be heard from beside her. “Today’s been going by really fast, and I can’t-- I can’t stop _thinking_ , y’know? This whole time, even when I’m talking, my brain just goes in a big loop! Thinking about.. thinking about, you know, and I’m-- _fuck_.

I’m not good at apologizing, okay? And I can’t help that. but I just want-- I **need** to know if you’re okay with me.”

The short speech catches Allison unaware, a hitched breath stuck in her throat and threatened to leave with the rest of her oxygen. She wasn’t _ready_ for this, to talk about that night. But, he’s trying. He just tried to apologize, and, well, unless you’re Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski probably _never_ thinks of apologizing. Ever. So Allison looks up, gulps, decides on whether or not to reply with actual words.

“Yeah,” she says, finally, “I’m _okay_ with you. Not-- Not _comfortable_ , but okay. I know it isn’t your fault, Stiles, and I don’t blame you for anything, but you were.. your body was _him_ , you know? And-- and, even though I know it wasn’t you, I just kept _remembering_ , and every time I do your face is always _there_. And--”

“I know.”

Stiles had wrapped an arm around her shoulders, thumb rubbing smooth circles over her skin. Had she started freaking out? Started shaking? Probably. Her hand accidentally runs over her scar from above the fabric of her shirt, and she flinches. Stiles immediately unravels her arm from her.

“Okay, get in there. It’s getting pretty late and Lydia’s basically _dying_ back there.”

She sighs.

“Yeah, she’s the one who woke me up.” He scrambles off first and holds a hand out. “I can drive for this leg, go take a nap.”

Allison takes the offered hand, sliding off the surface and lands with a soft _thump_ on her feet. “You sure?”

“Yeah, now, go before Lydia bursts from waiting.”

And Allison does.

****  
  


Allison falls asleep right beside Lydia immediately after she lays her head down on the soft fabric of Lydia’s shirt, the scent of fruit invading her sense of smell and she smiles. Lydia had been right; the road trip had solved more things than Allison had accounted for. Stiles, Isaac, Malia, even _Derek_ , for God’s sake. Scott was someone she’d try to talk to in the morning, and Kira, too.

When Allison wakes up, in a horizontal position and her best friend enveloped in her arms, she smiles, tugs the other closer and nuzzles her face into her neck. A soft _I love you too_ is whispered, the memory of Lydia saying it once to her near her locker coming to her, Then, she goes to sleep.

That night, Allison dreams of _warmth_ , with bodies pressed up against in each other, multiple lips curled into smiles, and red hair. It’s the first good dream she’s had in a week.

****  
  



End file.
